


All I Want For Christmas Is You

by feverpitchfiasco



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Presents, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-12
Updated: 2013-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-04 10:29:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverpitchfiasco/pseuds/feverpitchfiasco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has a Christmas present for John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Want For Christmas Is You

**Author's Note:**

> This is the fluffiest piece I've written in a good long while. Writing Palest Ink hurt. A lot. So I needed some fluffy Christmas cheer! 
> 
> Seriously. This is very fluffy and happy and nothing hurts.

Christmas had grown and evolved, according to John, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that. On the one hand, he loved that as he grew up and matured he saw it as a time for friends and family to gather and appreciate what they all had. On the other hand, the more he grew up and matured, the more he realized just how little he had. He always thought that by this point in his life, he’d be settled down with kids. Trim the tree, decorate the house, wrap gifts. The whole nine yards. Instead, he found himself mostly alone with only a scar on his shoulder and a cane in his closet. 

And Sherlock. He had Sherlock. It was with this thought that he climbed the stairs to their flat, pushing the door open and taking his coat off.

“It’s getting colder out there. I might need to get out my winter jacket soon. How’s the --” He stopped short as he turned. 

Strands of twinkling white lights wound around silver tinsel and draped along the walls. A few scented candles lined the mantle, filling the flat with the smell of cinnamon and spice while a modest tree adorned the corner. Bing Crosby crooned carols at them quietly from a stereo. 

“Sherlock, you…? I thought you didn’t like Christmas.” John stood planted in the doorway, eyes roaming over the flat. Sherlock took his elbow and guided him further into the room.

“If religions were puzzles, John, someone a long time ago took a handful of pieces from several different boxes and called it Christmas. I never really saw the point of this holiday before now. It was always a cold, perfunctory affair with my family. One that I dropped when I left home. And then I met you. I’ve spent a lifetime listening to people tell me what Christmas is supposedly about. It’s all friends and family and hot beverages and materialistic greed. But you care so much about people, John. Everyone with the pleasure of having you in their life knows just how deeply and how intensely you care. I’m beginning to see what people were trying to tell me. The whole Christmas spirit thing. I look at you and I think I know what they mean.

Family is important to you, John. Neither of us has much in that regard. Our parents are dead, and we each have a single sibling we’d rather not spend time with. At a certain point, family ceases to be about genetics and starts to be about choice. I’m choosing you as my family, and I hope that you will choose me too.” Sherlock spoke softly, still holding onto the shorter man’s arm. 

“Sherlock. I really don’t know what to say to that. I killed a man for you the first day we met. That’s.. That’s big. I hope you know that. You’ve been my family since day one. You’re right; we don’t really have much family left. But that’s of the family we were given. Of the one we’ve chosen, I think we’ve got it all. You know it’s not just you and me, right? Mrs. Hudson, Greg? I consider them family too at this point. They’re not nearly as close to me as you are, but they’re there nonetheless. You have a family, Sherlock. We have a family. We chose it, and we built it.” John looked up at Sherlock, warmth radiating from his smile. He blinked in surprise when Sherlock broke free and went to the tree, pulling a small box out from between the branches. 

“I got you a present.” He handed the box over with shaking fingers. 

“I didn’t get you anything, Sherlock. We didn’t do anything last year, so…” John bit his lip and looked down at the box in his hands.

“It’s ok. Just open it.” Sherlock looked eager and more than a little anxious, so John slid the top of the box off to reveal a silver pocket watch. He pulled the watch out and moved to the fireplace to look at it in the light. It was beautifully crafted. The slightly darkened silver told him it was antique, but the engraving was obviously new. Underneath a medical insignia on the lid were the words “Cpt John H. Watson Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers” in beautiful script. Upon the back, a more personal engraving of “The little things are infinitely the most important” shone out at him. 

“It was my father’s. He was always just as supportive of what I wanted to do as you are. So now I want you to have it. I wanted to get it engraved, but wasn’t sure with what. But you’re proud of being a doctor, John. And of being a soldier. They aren’t just jobs. Not to you. You saved lives as a soldier, you save lives as a doctor, and now you continue to save lives chasing criminals around London with me.” Sherlock leaned in and closed his hand over John’s, curling their fingers around the watch. John smiled and lead them over to the couch, pulled Sherlock down next to him. 

“I’m honored to accept this, Sherlock. I think I might just have a present for you too. It’s not last minute, by any means. But it’s not something I ever thought I’d give you.” John squeezed his hand briefly before pulling it back, inspecting the watch reverently once more. 

“I don’t understand. If you got me something, why wouldn’t you give it to me?” Sherlock furrowed his brow, thinking over possibilities. He was interrupted by John taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders before leaning over and capturing Sherlock’s lips in a gentle, questioning kiss. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time now. I was never sure just how you felt about me beyond friend and flatmate. You wouldn’t give your father’s watch to just anyone though, so I’m hoping I didn’t read this wrong.” John spoke with his eyes closed, causing Sherlock to chuckle silently. 

“Merry Christmas, John.” Sherlock pulled John into his arms and kissed him with certainty.


End file.
